Favourite Aunts

The children's hospital that I do work for acknowledges a particular marketing segment called "favourite aunts".

These are women who don't have children of their own, but are deeply invested in other people's children. These are the people who take their Lean Cusines and disposable income and shop at Baby Gap. The baby's Mother, on the other hand, usually shops at WalMart.

I get favourite aunts because I am one.

My pseudo-baby is nicknamed Bub, and we spent a glorious Hallowe'en together.

Bub is a little over two and a half years old and she has a barrel full of personality and a shocking head of wildly curly hair. She seems to be learning about 100 new words every a day.

Her parents won the lottery with her. You couldn't design a better kid.

After a tense week, there's nothing better than arriving at a place and having an energetic toddler squeal and come running towards you with her arms uplifted. Nothing better.

So we took Bub out trick or treating for the first time.

Her parents live in a spirited neighbourhood -- no pun intended -- where every house competes to outspook the next.

There were front yards transformed into graveyards, a neighbour who'd hauled his electric piano out on to the front porch and was playing a decent version of Tubular Bells, and one house in which all the occupants were dressed up as characters from horror movies -- complete with a smoke and light show and a chainsaw (minus the chain).

It was a little overwhelming for a little Bub.

But it wasn't getting candy that impressed Bub. It was the giving that really tickled her fancy.

While somewhat shy and reserved as we went door to door, she turned into a carnival barker when we got back to their house.

She pulled her tiny chair on to the front porch and started screaming, "We have candy," at the top of her lungs.

The other kids came running. Dozens of princesses, a Ginny Weasley, a baby chicken and my favourite: a kid dressed like Bacon.

Dressed in her Curious George costume, Bub made monkey noises as she dished mini chocolate bars into waiting bags.

Later, as we all ate dinner, she fell asleep in her high chair. It's exhausting to have that much fun.

As I left on Friday night, I turned to her parents and said, "Thanks."

"What for?" her Mother said.

"For having Bub," I said.